the mist rising
in the morning,
from green fairways
covered with fresh dew.
A flock of black Iwa birds
circling over a pond
with purple and pink lily pads,
beneath a blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds,
while gentle trade winds
provide a welcoming breeze,
fanning my skin
heated by my enthusiasm.
It occurs to me That I require an ideal To summit these peaks. Something more than a patch. My tenacity shouts above my perception Shooting ...
**This poem was inspired by a T-shirt design—I bought the shirt! I am also trying to convince certain people of the importance of POETR...
***A prose poem written in pidgin english Da gross cockroach militia stays booming in da plumbing in da face of mass killings in Kaneohe ...
Fresh pine scent captures holiday spirit. Santa’s little helpers burn clean fuel. Christmas cheer expires on December 26th. Cards and let...